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This is my ode to snow. Because, in my book, snow is pretty ode-ious.

When it comes to meteorology, snow is the fuzzy puppy of weather events. Everyone loves snow. Everyone wants snow. Entire carols, musicals and industries are built around the idea that snow is a good thing.

So, in the world there appears to be two sets of people: everyone who just loves snow, can't wait for snow, chants "let it snow, let it snow, let it snow," really, really, really wants snow for Christmas, and ... me.

It seems I'm on a bit of an island here. And if I had my wish, it would be a tropical one.

I sort of get it. Snow is pretty, if you like looking at miles and miles of white nothing. Except for that little postcard-sized bit of your windshield that is the only visible piece of your car, which you have to get into and drive somewhere because, well, someone has to have marshmallows for the hot chocolate.

If snow is that cute, fuzzy puppy from the previous analogy, I'm the guy reminding everyone that someone is going to have to clean up the mess the puppy leave, knowing full well that someone is going to be me.

Now if there is a beauty to the Scientific Reality That Apparently No One Currently Gets to Say Out Loud Anymore, it's that it's getting easier to remember Arkansas football wins over Alabama than it is snow storms in our little slice of surprisingly moderate Heaven.

So when people, specifically those in my immediate family, mention how sad they are that it hasn't dumped a bucket on us, I try to muster all the fake sincerity I can (that's the thing about sincerity: if you can fake that, you've got it made) and say, yeah, that's too bad.

Then I walk down to my mailbox on a sidewalk I didn't have to shovel and get the mail that made it, more or less, on time because cars can make it down my street just fine because ... no snow.

Under normal circumstances, my whining about snow would be about as necessary as me yelling at Mother Nature to not even think about riding her bike on my lawn. But some family business caused me and the Lovely Mrs. Smith to have to travel fairly far north this week. Once we got there, whoever is in charge of that sort of thing decided we needed to experience about an inch or so of snow.

They give you leis when you land in Hawaii, so ... I guess.

Time out for a reminder here: I lived in Michigan for several years when I was a kid, and I have to admit, it both informed my perceptions of the realities of snow and what is required to function in it, and scarred me. So when it comes to that quaint little fuzzy puppy blanket of white, I'm also checked out on the puddle on the carpet and the chewed up shoes.

I'm also checked on the fact that, while snow may look pretty in a desolate kind of way, it requires a lot more care and feeding than, say, 50 degrees and sunny. For instance, that scenic drive to see the winter wonderlandiness of it all? Yeah, well, snow is just as pretty from the ditch you slid into. It's just that the scenery isn't going to change.

Thankfully, the Lovely Mrs. Smith always brings car snacks, so if something like that had happened to us (which it, thankfully, didn't), we'd have been able to hold out for the tow truck. Or give the bears something to eat besides us. Whichever came first.

Also, I'm sort of at the age where falling in the snow is less an excuse to make snow angels and more a reason to take an ambulance to the hospital. So, sidewalks, driveways and any and everything you might have to travel on have got to be cleared.

And as a word of warning, whatever your level of physical activity, there is nothing in the world that prepares you for shoveling snow except, well, basically, shoveling snow. So, Merry Christmas to your back.

The jury's still out but it's likely we're all going to survive the current winter with very little snow to experience, which is just fine with me. And it means I get a few more months before I get to start complaining that all this rain will make it impossible to mow the lawn. If I actually mowed my own lawn.

Looks like Mother Nature and I are going to have words again.

Commentary on 12/22/2017

Print Headline: Let it (not) snow

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